"Go ahead then, finish the job he started," she spits vehemently at Coyote. "Do you think I care?"

She will not cry, not in front of them, she tells herself-- her weak, mortal powerless self, now once more everything that she had sought the Dark to avoid, so long ago.

So long ago--

(he beat and beat and beat with his wings)

--with horror, she realizes that she cannot even remember that time clearly, now. Only the sense of someone -- herself? --looking up at the night sky once, and seeing (black feathers?) no stars anywhere.